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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29144655">In the Stables</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onehelluvapilot/pseuds/Onehelluvapilot'>Onehelluvapilot</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Febuwhump [19]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Exhaustion, Friendship, Gen, Horses, Hurt Lancelot (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, Napping, Sleep Deprivation, Tucking the homies into bed, Tyr Seward is a Good Friend, Whump, or in this case putting a blanket over them when they fall asleep in a pile of hay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:27:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,419</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29144655</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onehelluvapilot/pseuds/Onehelluvapilot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lancelot shows up at Camelot's stables, bedraggled and clearly exhausted, riding a horse that isn't his own. His friend Tyr worries and fusses over him when he's able.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lancelot &amp; Tyr Seward (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Febuwhump [19]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2134998</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>In the Stables</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Betaed by LiGi</p><p>I was also assisted with this fic, specifically coming up with names for the horses, by @llywela13 and @talvenhenki on tumblr, as well as an anonymous person. Eirawen is Lancelot's white mare seen in the show, and means 'snow white' in Welsh. Taran, the draft horse, means 'thunder', which is apparently the name of Lancelot's horse in some of the legends.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tyr frowned when he saw Lancelot riding up to the stables on a different horse than the one on which he had left. Instead of his white mare Eirawen, he sat astride a large black draft horse. Even without the saddle blanket, the cinch barely fit around the beasts body, and it had to be chafing badly. He also only had an improvised set of rope reigns instead of a proper bridle. In addition to the ill-fitting equipment, the draft horse had clearly been ridden hard. Something had to have gone wrong; Lancelot was normally far more considerate for his mount. He wouldn't have left Eira behind if he had a choice, nor been so hard on his borrowed horse. Especially since draft horses were better used as farm animals, not for long rides.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What happened?" Tyr asked as Lancelot pulled the panting horse to a stop and tossed the reins down to him. The knight stumbled as he dismounted hastily. It might've been due to the mount's unusual size, but then again, he looked a little well-worn himself, his hair mussed, clothes rumpled, and dark circles under his eyes. The stable boy wondered how long he'd been riding for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Trouble," Lancelot said vaguely. "I need to go report to the king. Sorry. I'll be back later to help you with him," he said, nodding to the draft horse. The movement evidently made him dizzy, as he had to throw his hand out against the wall for balance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you need help getting inside?" Tyr asked in concern. Now safely braced against the wall, the knight shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll be fine. Just take care of the horse, please. I wasn't kind to him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stable boy nodded, already leading the animal into a stall. When he turned back, Lancelot was already limping out of the stables. He wasn’t at all sure that he shouldn’t go after him and make sure he got to Arthur, who he seemed so desperate to reach, but then he saw Merlin in the courtyard, the servant running over to his friend and pulling his arm around his shoulders to support him. Reassured that the knight was looked after, he turned to care for the draft horse. The beast was gulping down water from the bucket at the back of the stall, and barely reacted as Tyr set to unsaddling him. Given the animal’s large size, brushing him down took a long time, and he’d only gotten halfway through before he was interrupted by the King entering the stables with Merlin and his whole entourage of knights. Minus Lancelot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tyr! We need to be ready to ride as soon as possible,” Arthur announced. The stableboy flinched at the loud proclamation, but he’d known the king for long enough to tell that he wasn’t really angry at him, just stressed about something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May I ask what the occasion is, sire?” Normally he was given more warning for when they would be riding out, so he had time to prepare the horses properly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lancelot has reported that the Saxons were amassing on the northern border three days ago. By now, they could be within the kingdom."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This pronouncement practically struck Tyr numb, and he just nodded in response before rushing to ready the rest of the horses. It was only later, after the king, Merlin, and his knights had ridden out, that he realized what exactly had shocked him about the statement, and it wasn’t that there might already be a hostile force within Camelot’s territory. No, he wasn’t worried about that yet, because it would take them another four days at least before they could reach the city. The journey from the northern border took a week on horseback. And Arthur had said that Lancelot had done it in three days. He must’ve ridden through the night every single day, and probably hardly stopped at all beyond the time needed to switch horses. No wonder he’d looked awful; it was a miracle he hadn’t killed himself with the exertion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t surprising then, when Tyr went to go check on how the draft horse was recovering later that evening and found the knight passed out in a pile of straw outside his stall. It was hardly the first time he’d found Lancelot napping in the stables, but normally he only did so when he was having trouble falling asleep in his own bed. He would have thought the knight was exhausted enough that he could have gone to sleep anywhere. Usually he snuck into Eirawen’s stall, so he was out of the way, and grabbed a saddle blanket to cover himself with, but tonight he hadn’t managed that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lancelot,” Tyr said, bending down and nudging his shoulder gently. Normally the knight would jerk awake at the slightest provocation, but today he was harder to rouse. “Hey, Lancelot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?” he hummed, finally waking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re lying in the middle of the aisle, and I don’t want you to get stepped on,” the stableboy explained to him. The knight didn’t quite seem to understand or process his words, as his gaze remained confused and unfocused, but he let himself be guided to his feet, albeit quite slowly. He looked awful, and he leaned against both his friend and the wall. His stomach grumbled as he moved. “Have you had anything to eat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not yet,” he admitted. Tyr guided him over to a stool near the saddle racks before grabbing his own packed supper from a shelf and shoving half of his sandwich into the knight’s hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You eat that,” he ordered. By all rights someone in his lowly position should never deign to order a noble around, but he knew Lancelot wasn’t going to take care of himself without instruction, and Merlin, who normally would have looked after his friend, was gone. “And when was the last time you slept?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jus’ now,” Lancelot replied through a mouthful of food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I meant before that, silly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… honestly, I can’t even remember. I think I might have fallen asleep in the saddle at some point.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You probably haven’t had a proper night’s rest in almost four days though,” Tyr surmised. Lance nodded. “Why did you come all the way back down here then, instead of going to your own bed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d promised to come help you with Taran.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Taran?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The draft horse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh Lancelot, I can take care of him myself. You needn’t have worried yourself over that, though it’s kind that you thought of it.” Most of the knights just tossed their reins to a squire or stableboy and left, but when he was able, Lance always tried to care for his own horse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tyr wondered where Eirawen had been left, and how long it might be until he would be able to see her again. Her retrieval, and the return of Taran, the borrowed draft horse, would be delayed if not worse if war broke out with the Saxons. He prayed it would not come to that. Though he was tempted to ask Lancelot how many soldiers he had seen and how likely he thought war was, he decided it was best not to bother him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he grabbed a couple saddle blankets and took them over to the pile of clean straw in a space between two stalls. He laid one down and set the other one beside it before going back to the knight. He’d finished the half sandwich he’d been given and was now just holding his head as if it hurt him. “C’mon, I think you need a good deal more sleep.” If he’d had any confidence that Lance could make it up to his own rooms without passing out in the hallway, he would have helped him up into the castle, but as it was, the man was swaying on his feet in the few paces it took to get over to the makeshift bed. He pretty much collapsed down onto it, curling up instantly in the scratchy blanket. Tyr unfolded the other blanket to drape over him, and he seemed to be asleep within seconds. The stableboy had a feeling that when the man awoke, he would have his hands full trying to keep him from racing to catch up with his friends who had left him behind to rest. For now, even though he was worried, Tyr was going to appreciate the peace and quiet of the stable, broken only by the soft snoring and the whinnies of the horses.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'd love to know what you thought of it!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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